The best part of The American Dreamer is some of Warner E. Leighton and co-director Schiller’s editing, which only works thanks to Schiller and Carson’s filmmaking. They have this wonderful device where they film their subjects listening to recordings of their previous filming and then cut, often imperceptibly, between the subjects listening to themselves and the subjects speaking. They do it twice in the film, once towards the beginning, once towards the end. It’s best at the beginning.
The American Dreamer is Dennis Hopper. He’s editing a big studio motion picture (The Last Movie) in Taos, in a lovely home, populated by a bunch of stoned people. Presumably, a lot of them are on the Movie’s post-production team. Dreamer doesn’t introduce anyone. Carson and Schiller are more comfortable centering the film around Hopper–who then complains about it at the one hour mark, at which point Dreamer sort of rushes to wrap up.
If Carson, Schiller and Hopper intend to reveal or suggest anything mysterious about Hopper (who is credited as a co-writer), they fail. At one point, probably halfway into Dreamer, after listening to Hopper talk about how he loves people’s thoughts and ideas and hearing them, he keeps interrupting this Playboy bunny while condescendingly explaining Playboy to her (and to the camera).
Later on, just before he rails against the directors in an interview moment, he flips out about their inability to properly shoot him while he’s presenting his photographs. Early in the film, Hopper was far more open, far less condescending. Maybe I just gave up on him when he started justifying Charles Manson to the bunny.
As for Hopper as a filmmaker, what does American Dreamer reveal? He compares himself to Orson Welles, not Robert Wise. His filmmaking objective is not narrative but revolution; at least, he wants the viewer (and his entourage) to believe its revolution. He’s convincing, in no small part to Carson and Schiller. Even though he’s openly hostile to them by the end, he’s still the hero.
The folk soundtrack is also amusing. It’s okay enough, especially at the beginning, but these are folk anthems to the glory of Dennis Hopper, presumably added in post-production. The American Dreamer is a strange example of egomania, which is really too bad, because the stuff Carson and Schiller capture of Hopper editing the film–he’s focused, angry, irritable–is striking. Even the most honest-looking cinéma vérité is still cinema.
Especially in the second half, when someone clearly thought they needed to spice up the movie with a dozen girls there to fulfill Hopper’s fantasy of a sleepover.
Directed by Lawrence Schiller and L.M. Kit Carson; written by Dennis Hopper, Carson and Schiller; edited by Warren E. Leighton and Schiller; produced by Schiller; released by EYR.